


Weeks, Months, Years

by hardasitis



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-27 22:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14435343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardasitis/pseuds/hardasitis
Summary: Hélène Bezukhova could not exactly call herself a good person. Making a grand entrance to a party on the arm of her pretend lover, without her husband, to stir the envy of the woman she loves hardly seemed like something a good person would do.





	1. Chapter 1

Hélène Bezukhova could not exactly call herself a good person. Making a grand entrance to a party on the arm of her pretend lover, without her husband, to stir the envy of the woman she loves hardly seemed like something a good person would do. On the other hand, Hélène could not call herself a bad person either. Marya had, after all, taken Hélène’s heart and smashed it against the marbled floor. It’s only natural that her response would be to appeal to Marya’s lust in the hopes that she could mend their shattered relationship.

_That night had been a long time coming. Years of slow, painful, political talk between them both to keep up appearances. Years of trying desperately to deny whatever unholy and illegal feelings they had between them. Months of hiding from society after their first kiss. Months of Hélène slipping out of her home late at night to spend a few tender hours wrapped in Marya’s silk sheets and in her arms. Weeks of being so comfortable around the other that they both started getting careless. Only one night for them to make a mistake and for Pierre to discover them._

_The pair had been in the midst of consummating their passion in Hélène’s bedroom. The change of scenery was welcome, as Pierre was meant to be in Petersburg for a few days longer. Marya had her lips pressed against Hélène’s neck, smearing stark red lipstick down her skin. Hélène’s hands were expertly navigating the stays of Marya’s corset. Neither heard the slight creak of the door over the gasps and guttural moans. It had taken Pierre a few moments to speak after his shock._

_“Countess Bezukhova,” was all he could mutter, just peering at them both through his spectacles. He wasn’t surprised by seeing Hélène in the throes of passion with someone else. He was annoyed, sure, of her deciding to take her extracurriculars into their marriage bed. The surprise wasn’t even caused by the fact that it was a woman. There was no one that Hélène wouldn’t throw herself at. Well, aside from himself. What caused his intense shock was the fact that his wife was undressing Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova. Hélène was planning on making love to Moscow’s terrible dragon and his dear friend. The two women lurched upright at his voice. Marya’s face turned deathly pale and Pierre swore that she could see her tremble. Hélène, of course, looked less phased and she just stared at Pierre with an indifferent expression. “_

_Ah, dear husband, we weren’t expecting you home so early. How kind of you to bless us with your presence,” The venom dripped out of every one of Hélène’s words._

_Pierre sucked in a deep breath as he looked at her. “You’re a slut, Hélène,” was all he was able to manage._

_At that, Marya snapped out of her shock and covered herself with one of the blankets._ _“Pierre, don’t you dare talk to her like that. She wasn’t the only-“_

_The image before him seemed to finally hit Pierre and he clenched his fists. “I can talk to my wife any damn way I please, Marya. I think I have that right,” he snapped at her. “Both of you are lucky I don’t go to the papers with this. I could call the police just as easily!”_

_Marya began to breathe heavily, clutching at the sheets. “Pierre, please… I’ve made a mistake. Please,” She begged, looking up at him, shame flooding her body._

_Pierre looked at her for a moment. “I won’t breathe a word, but I expect you out of my home at once.” His expression shifted. “I expected this from my wife, Marya, but you? I thought you would’ve had better morals.” At that, he gave both of them one last glance and then disappeared through the doorway._

_It was silent between them both as Marya stood to get dressed, her face hardened._

_“Marya, I -“ Hélène’s hand reached up to caress her forearm._

_Marya smacked her hand away. “Don’t you touch me. Pierre was right. I should have much better morals.” She buttoned her dress and grabbed her shawl, throwing it around her._

_“Marya, clearly you don’t believe him,” Hélène stood behind her, pleading._

_“He’s right, Countess. I’ve made a grave mistake associating myself with someone like you,” Marya looked at her for a moment, trying to avoid the pang in her heart. “You’re lucky your husband is so forgiving.” She grabbed her purse and Hélène was helpless to stop her from leaving._

The memory of it all jolted Hélène slightly and she shook it off. Dolokhov was being announced and she sucked in a deep breath, not sure what will be waiting for her when she descended the steps. Hélène adjusted the diamond bracelet on her wrist as she heard, “Announcing Countess Hélène Bezukhova”. She closed her eyes for a moment and then made her way down the stairs, a shining grin gracing her pink lips.

“Countess,” Dolokhov whispered in her ear as she took her arm. Hélène could almost hear his smirk.

“Fedya,” She greeted in return, laughing slightly. “Is she here?”

“By the champagne table. Don’t look now,” Dolokhov whispered. He knew this wasn’t the best idea, but what could he do? Hélène had done plenty for him in the past and if she thought that flaunting her breasts to Marya Dmitrievna would bring her happiness, then so be it.

The band struck up a slow tune and Dolokhov brought her to the middle of the floor. The two came close and danced with Hélène’s nails gripping Dolokhov’s shoulder.

“Hélène, can you retract your claws, sweetheart?”

But Hélène wasn’t listening. She caught sight of a beautiful vision in red, standing by the wall with a glass of champagne in her hand. Marya was tight-lipped and indifferent, as per usual. Her slightly-greyed flaming hair was pinned up in the same intricate up-do as always. A small smile lit Hélène’s face. Marya never changed. Marya’s eyes met Hélène’s and Hélène felt as if her heart was going to burst just from the sheer intensity of it all. Marya took a sip of her champagne, her eyes slanted. After a few moments, Marya let her gaze fall away and Hélène leaned in to Dolokhov.

“Do you think she’d make a fuss if I spoke with her?”

Dolokhov shook his head, laughing. “Depends on what you call a fuss, Elena. You and your brother tend to have a very different definition of the word than the rest of us.”

Hélène rolled her eyes and let go of his shoulder. “I’ve made my decision then.” She flashed him a smile and took a step away. “Also, I don’t know if Anatole’s gotten you into the habit of calling me Elena, but you should break that habit now.”

As she made her way to the champagne table, all Hélène could hear was Dolokhov laughing at her.


	2. Chapter 2

Hélène stood next to Marya, but neither even glanced at the other. Hélène’s fan fluttered in front of her face as her other hand reached for a glass of champagne. It was quiet between them both as Hélène waited like a predator on the prowl. She was debating on what she should say (if anything), when a beautiful young woman pranced her way towards the table.

“Marya, can Sonya and I _please_ have a glass of champagne?” The girl’s high voice rang out, her hands pressed together.

Marya rolled her eyes. “You can each have one. That’s it, you hear me? Your parents trusted me with you both and I’m not sure how happy I am with you drinking, Natalya.”

Natalya’s face lit up. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Marya!” She came forward and kissed the older woman’s cheek.

It was then that Hélène saw her chance to start a conversation with the terrible dragon. She adjusted the bodice of her gown for a moment and then a smirk graced her lips.

“Oh, Marya,” Hélène drawled, her finger tapping her chin. “Who is this charming young woman? What a shame for you to keep her hidden.” Her eyes ran over Natalya in appraisal. She definitely was a beauty: a rosy complexion, shining hazel eyes, and an enchanting and innocent air. Natalya obviously noticed her staring because her cheeks reddened and she looked to the floor.

Marya’s eyes snapped up to meet Hélène’s. Her gaze was leering and unforgiving, but Hélène swore that she saw the eye contact break for a moment and for Marya’s eyes to dart downward. Everything was going exactly to plan. If all went well, Marya would be under Hélène’s control and in her bed before the evening was out.

Marya took a deep breath and drew herself to her full height, towering over Hélène. “This is the Countess Natalya Rostova.” She paused for a moment. “My goddaughter.”

“It’s Natasha, actually,” The young girl piped up, her hands wrapped around a flute of champagne.

“Ah, Natasha. _Charmante,_ my dear.” Hélène came close and let the side of her finger caress Natasha’s soft cheek.

Natasha let out a soft gasp in surprise at the intimate attention from such a stunning older woman. “A-and you are?”

Before Hélène could open her mouth to introduce herself, Marya cut her off. Her gaze had somehow become even more dangerous and Hélène felt her body flush with desire. Marya’s ferocity had always been one of her strongest features.

“Natalie, this is the Countess Elena Bezukhova.” Marya said her name with such disdain that Hélène almost dropped her facade.

“ _Hélène_ ,” She greeted, giving Natasha another dazzling smile. “Marya, you should know that well enough by now.”

Marya’s sucked in a breath through her teeth and prayed that Natasha could not sense the budding tension between the two. “Hélène, right. My apologies. Natasha, this is our dear Pierre’s wife.” Marya’s voice faltered on the title and she swallowed hard.

Natasha lit up. “Oh, Pierre! What a lovely man. Is he here?”

Hélène smiled sweetly at the young girl, shaking her head. “Pierre sends his regards, but he wasn’t feeling so well this evening. You’ll have to come over, my darling. Come visit us both. You’re certainly welcome to bring your lovely godmother along as a chaperone.”

“Oh Marya, can we please visit? I haven’t really gotten to see Moscow and Pierre is such a lovely man,” Natasha begged.

Marya gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Yes, we’ll just have to visit the Bezukhovs. Now run along with Sonya, dear. The Countess and I have some catching up to do.”

Natasha grinned. She picked up another flute of champagne for Sonya and darted off into the crowd.

“What are you doing?” Marya snapped to Hélène the moment Natasha was out of ear-shot.

“Oh I’m just meeting your wonderful -“

“ _Hélène,_ this is inappropriate. I can’t be seen like this,” Marya put her empty glass on the table.

Hélène’s brow furrowed and her voice lowered. “Marya, I haven’t seen you in months. You owe me this.”

“I owe you _nothing_!” Marya cried, before quieting down. “We can’t have anything like that ever again. Focus on your relationship with Pierre.”

Hélène came a little closer to Marya. “My darling, of course I’m rebuilding my relationship with Pierre.” She stopped for a second. “But you wouldn’t deny your precious Natalya from seeing her friend and his lovely wife, now would you?”

Marya rolled her eyes, but said nothing for a while. “You haven’t worn that dress since -“

Hélène moved past Marya to get to the champagne. “Since you took me in my husband’s study,” She purred in her ear. She felt Marya shudder from the closeness.

“Hélène, you can’t do this to me -“

“Marya Dmitrievna, I can.” Hélène felt a hard pang in her chest. “Please don’t push me away again.”

A sigh came out of Marya’s lips and she looked down to her boots. She swallowed and then met Hélène’s eyes. “It’s been a pleasure speaking with you, Countess.” The good-bye was filled with all of Marya’s aching regrets and she pushed past Hélène before the other woman could begin to protest.

Hélène tried to follow her into the crowd but she disappeared. She let out a sigh of disappointment and fidgeted with the detailing on her dress. It wasn’t a total failure. Marya spoke with her. Marya had looked into her eyes and shivered under her attentions. It was a start.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Hélène left the party promptly after. She felt no need to stay after Marya left and the constant chattering of other society women annoyed her. The troika dropped her off late in the evening and Hélène prayed that the night would go smoothly and without much interaction with her husband. Of course, when Hélène climbed the steps to her separate bedroom, a voice rang from her husband’s study.

“Hélène, is that you?”

Hélène sucked in a breath and then leaned against the doorframe. “Yes, darling. You were missed at Anna Pavlovna’s.”

Pierre scoffed, taking another swig of his vodka. “I can’t imagine that. Listen, Elena, I’ve been thinking-“

“Dangerous, sweetheart. Be careful,” Hélène snarked at him, admiring her nails so as not to look at him.

Pierre looked at his drink, ignoring her comment. “Hélène, we need to have children.”

That simple statement made Hélène jerk forward and hit her knee against the doorframe. She stormed into the room and took his bottle of vodka from him, trying to regain her composure. “Ah, dear husband, you can’t _possibly_ mean that. You’re too much of a drunk and I’m not exactly full of maternal instinct.”

Pierre put down his glass and looked up at her. “Hélène, we’ve been married for three years now. People will expect us to be trying to conceive and who knows? Maybe we will be able to raise a child or two.”

Hélène took a shot of vodka directly from the bottle. “Pierre, I have no desire to… procreate with you.”

Pierre looked up at her and took the bottle back. “We need to have children and we should start tonight.”  
Hélène burst out laughing. “I am not having sex with you, Pierre. Especially not tonight.” She ripped her gloves off and turned towards the door.

“So you refuse to have sex with me, but you’ll throw yourself at Dolokhov and Marya, huh?” Pierre snapped at her.

Hélène clutched at her gloves but didn’t turn to face him. “Pierre, watch yourself.”

Pierre stood, towering over her. “Elena Bezukhova, I expect you in my bed now.” His voice was low and she paused.

Hélène contemplated her situation. She could certainly appease Pierre well enough. A quick fuck, he would fall asleep, and he would forget this conversation ever happened. “Yes, my husband,” She murmured before heading to Pierre’s room.

When Pierre finally arrived, Hélène was naked and lounging in his sheets, her fingers pulling out the pins in her hair.

“You finally obeyed instructions,” Pierre remarked as he looked at her, his gaze roaming over her form.

Hélène nodded, her head tilting. “Well hurry up or I might go back to my own chambers,” She snorted.

Pierre seemed to take her threat as he unbuttoned his vest and sat on the bed next to her. He hovered over her and captured her lips in a kiss.

Hélène tried her best not to pull away from his sloppy kiss. Determined to get this over with as soon as possible, Hélène grabbed him and pulled him to the sheets. He unbuttoned his pants as Hélène’s hands slid his shirt off his shoulders.

Hélène slid underneath of him, taking deep and calming breaths. She closed her eyes, trying to convince herself that she could pretend that it was Dolokhov. She would’ve loved to imagine Marya between her legs, but Pierre was too rough, too clumsy.

After awhile, Hélène gave up on trying to pretend that she was enjoying this. Pierre was nearly suffocating her and his thrusts were weak and sporadic. As she predicted, he finished quickly and gave her a peck on the nose that she grimaced at.

“Goodnight, Pierre,” Hélène rolled over and climbed out of the bed, reaching for her robe.

“Aren’t you staying?” Pierre questioned her, looking rather like a sad dog that had been kicked by his owner. Hélène thought this was an apt analogy.

“No,” Hélène glared at him. “I’m going to wash up and head to bed. Sleeping with you in the sexual sense was enough.” With that, she stormed out of the room and nearly ran to her own chambers.

Hélène had one of the maids draw her a bath and she laid in the tub, her fingers lightly caressing the marble of its rim. That night had obviously not gone according to plan and she tried to ignore the ache in her heart as she reflected on Marya. There was a time when she had been given the honor of seeing a tender side of that beautiful woman that few were privileged to see. It scared her, sometimes, to admit what she would do for Marya’s sake. She wondered, for a moment, if Marya ever gave her a second thought.


End file.
